


Petals to Ashes

by Procrastinating_Dragonfly



Category: Monsta X (Band), 걸어 | All in - Monsta X (Music Video)
Genre: Alternate Universe - All In (Music Video), Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, But not MX, But we respect all religions so not negative, Character Death, Child Abuse, Homophobia, Lots of Heavy Stuff but it's not as dramatic as it sounds, Magic, Multi, Other Artists as Secondary Characters, Religious Themes, Shamanism, Suicide Attempt, The Author Hates Tagging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-05-05 09:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14615637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Procrastinating_Dragonfly/pseuds/Procrastinating_Dragonfly
Summary: In the village there is a bridge, under which seven boys sit and laugh, ignoring the invaders and the fire threatening to burn their world to the ground.(A Clan X AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Is this MV dead by now? Probably. Have I wanted to write about it since it came out? Absolutely yes. Is it too late? Not if I have anything to say about it. Let's go. 
> 
> (TW for implied child abuse!)

_ We, betting on everything that we have, solemnly swear to abide by this oath.  _

_ First, filling our empty hearts.  _

_ First, finding the right path, and following it.  _

_ First, to never leave anyone behind.  _

_ We will become one, and protect the X-Clan. _

* * *

Not too far from the border, there was a village.

A broken bicycle would mark the farthest point one could reach without exiting the invisible barrier that no inhabitant of the village would ever cross, and only three boys knew about its existence. Of these, only two had seen it, and knew where it lay abandoned in the forest, with its broken handle and flat tires.

In the village, in between two slopes, there was a bridge, under which sat a group of boys, in their worn sweaters and shorts that were never meant to be so short in the first place, laughing and throwing pebbles at each other, deleting the world outside the small space. 

One ignored the sickness awaiting him at home, and the desperation threatening to swallow him whole. 

One ignored the masks and violence, and the nights void of anything but fear and hate and humiliation. 

One ignored his own lies, and crushed flowers that screamed nightmares and duty.

One ignored the fake smiles that couldn’t light the hollow space under the bridge, and his own innocence.

One ignored the incoming night, how the bridge would darken and grow empty, the shivering and poorly mended blankets. 

One ignored the ghosts of the old days, and nightmares of blood gurgling and dropped knives. 

One, ignored the existence of the pink bicycle at the border.  

* * *

In the village, there was a bridge.

Under the bridge, on a day like any other, sat seven boys, resting on abandoned containers and blankets on the ground, their feet digging in the gravel. On this particular day, they were gathered around a basket of bread, looking down at the food with wide grins, in expectant silence.

“Can I get the loudest fucking applause for Yoo Kihyun and his mom?” one of the boys shouted, and just like that everyone was scrambling to fight off the others’ hands and  _ move, you fucker, that’s mine I said. _

“Fuck yes!” Wonho and Changkyun screamed in chorus, high-fiving each other with a grin, and the rest of the boys erupted in loud laughter. It was a matter of seconds before most of the food was gone, everyone stuffing their mouth and holding whatever they had managed to steal as war spoils. Hyunwoo chuckled, chewing his own piece with just a fraction of the calm that the others didn’t seem to possess - then again, Hyunwoo thought, most of his younger friends didn’t have the luxury of a steady food supply at home, and rarely had the chance to taste sweets.

“Thanks, Kihyun and Kihyun’s ma,” Minhyuk mumbled, crumbles falling from his mouth and a cheeky grin on his lips. Hyunwoo gave him exactly half a second before Kihyun hit him, then chuckled into his food when his prevision came to be as expected.

Kihyun tried to scowl, but none of the boys under the bridge were stupid enough as to not notice his red ears - nor stupid enough to comment on it.

“Ah, shut up already, it’s my mom, she doesn’t like being thanked-”

“It’s Kihyun’s  _ mom _ , she doesn’t like being thanked,” Jooheon mocked, cackling when the older boy turned around to kick him as well. 

A year ago, Hyunwoo would have intervened, used his authority as eldest to get Kihyun to stop using physical violence on his friends, or the others to stop mocking the brunet, but now, he simply laughed along with everyone, basking in the friendly atmosphere and the warm food, and the careless smiles and discarded blankets, because they really didn’t need the blankets when they were trying to get the upper hand on each other and push someone against the wall anyway.  

It all disappeared in a fraction of a second, with the first gunshot, smiles and stomachs and temperature dropping alike.  

* * *

There was a bridge in the village, under which the seven boys sat, like they did any other day, ignoring the invaders however they could.

They never did a very good job of it, Hyunwoo thought as he stood up with Jooheon and Hyungwon. Never managed to properly avoid the danger they loved ignoring so. 

Behind them, Minhyuk whimpered. 

There was a bridge, under which sat seven boys, who did a terrible job of ignoring danger, but reacted oh-so-differently to it. And when Hyunwoo saw the white-haired child clutching the edge of his remnants of food, instinctively curling up against a corner, he remembered why some of them never could ignore the danger in the first place.  If anyone else noticed Minhyuk was trembling, or that Kihyun had violently flinched, or how Changkyun was staring at a fixed point on the ground, they were too used to it to react, and Hyunwoo was, too. 

When they heard a second round of shots and screaming, the three boys ran.

Under the bridge, four sat, and their eyes didn’t meet. 

* * *

They pushed through the fleeing villagers towards the little square. When they reached the clearing, Hyunwoo’s heart froze in his chest, the toppled stalls and broken tables and shattered vases screaming destruction and invasion.

In front of them, a group of armed men raised their rifles, barrels pointed against two old vendors, the only ones left in the plaza. Hyunwoo recognized them as his grandfather’s friends, kind men who used to teach him how to play cards and laugh when they offered him a cigar to try out and his face scrunched in disgust.

“Please, don’t do-”

“I said, stand down!”

“Hey, hey, hey, why don’t you leave these uncles alone?” 

Hyunwoo blinked, realizing the youngest of his friends had materialized at the groups’ side before he could notice him move, arms raised in a peaceful gesture that had all the nonchalance his hostile posture lacked.

“Back off, this is official business!” one of the soldiers shouted, and Hyunwoo’s legs finally gained back their feeling just as the man pointed his rifle directly at Jooheon’s head. He approached with a calm he didn’t quite feel, forcing himself not to react as his friend smirked and lowered his head, pushing the brim of his beret directly against the barrel of the weapon. 

A part of Hyunwoo’s mind screamed that everyone ought to be a lot more alarmed at the impudence and recklessness. The rest of it, maybe more rational or maybe not, refused to panic, and for that, he was infinitely grateful. 

“Ah, we would never oppose anyone on official business!” Jooheon declared loudly, offering a laugh that had no real effort behind it. “We were just wondering if you would be so magnanimous as to exhibit the documents of your official business to the young lord over there. You see, my friend and I are simple villagers, but that kid is the son of the pastor. I’m sure you all know everything on here goes through his father first.”

“Just official business, you know?” Hyungwon had approached, lips pulled in a taught smile, one that would’ve come off as obviously fake to anyone who didn’t know him, and, to Hyunwoo, showed genuine amusement at the situation. 

The kids were too impudent for their own good, but he couldn’t exactly reprimand them if their impudence was what would get them out this situation. 

“If you forgot them it’s fine.” Jooheon raised his back, an overtly theatrical frown creasing his forehead. “Just come back later. You can report directly to this kid, no need to disturb the pastor with such small business.” 

“Here,” Hyungwon mumbled, picking something out of his pocket - a blue flower, which he tucked in the pocket of the nearest soldier with a pleasant smile and a soft pat to the man’s shoulder. “Flowers are pretty. Let’s all be friends, yes?”

Hyunwoo held his breath and waited, ready to jump to action if their game didn’t hold up. The guards, thankfully, only looked uncomfortably among themselves, and nodded. 

As their invaders left, after both parts exchanged cordial bows, the smiles dropped, and Jooheon pulled Hyungwon to the side. 

“Hyung, you go back. We'll be a minute.”

* * *

The arrival of the men was signalled by the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel, and a single pebble falling from Hyungwon’s hand. 

“Hyungwon.”

Hyunwoo watched the boy’s shoulders shake minutely, as he trained his gaze on the pebble that had joined its companions on the ground. Minhyuk’s hand flew to the dark-haired boy’s arm, protective in intent and incriminating in effect. Minhyuk, too, seemed to realize it, and dropped it immediately. Still too late. 

Hyunwoo’s breath hitched in time with Hyungwon’s head snapping to the side, and all the tension in the air disappeared with the single slap from the pastor. 

Only Wonho’s iron grip on his arm stopped Hyunwoo from exchanging the favor, and from the corner of his eye, he saw his friend holding Minhyuk back with his other hand, with a grip that would definitely leave a bruise.

“Were you influenced by these delinquents?” Hyungwon’s father asked, as if he didn’t notice anything going on behind his son. Had he not known him, Hyunwoo would’ve believed he hadn’t seen them at all. 

But he knew Hyungwon’s father had seen them, all of them, and was just opting to ignore the lowest delinquent children of the village trying not to cause a ruckus. They didn’t deserve his attention, nor his son’s. Hyungwon complained about it when they were tired and using each other’s bodies to rest at night, and he had to excuse himself earlier, go back home because he shouldn’t be there for too long.

“I was not,” Hyungwon whispered, bringing Hyunwoo’s attention away from his father, and back to the boy he considered a little brother, who tried to hold his head high, eyes low, and voice stable. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

And Hyunwoo wanted to say something, even though he had never been good with words. He should have moved, wanted to move. So did the others, he could feel it in Wonho’s grip on his arm, Jooheon jittering behind him. 

“Ah, I think I should go home…” Hyungwon mumbled, and it took Hyunwoo a second to realize he was talking to them.

He didn’t know what possessed him to slowly nod, why he thought he had the authority, or why that could ever be a good idea, but no one seemed to go against him, like he had silently hoped they would. They all just watched Hyungwon smile weakly and turn around, a few mumbled goodbyes the only sign of hesitation in either of the parties. The dark-haired boy barely flinched when his father leaned to whisper something in his ear, and trailed behind with an obedience the eldest of the gang had rarely, if ever, seen.

And Hyunwoo watched.

As soon as they were out of sight, someone kicked a bunch of stones behind him, and Hyunwoo turned around just in time to catch Minhyuk take off running in the opposite direction. 

Hyunwoo watched. 

* * *

The old man tossed, the sound rough in the silence, yet barely of importance by this point. He had been sick for far too long, Hyunwoo thought to himself for what were too many times to count, as he moved a few sweat-matted strands from his forehead. Sick for too long, and neither of them could go on like this.

But this, too, he had already told himself far too many times.

“Gramps, Kihyun’s mom made sweet bread for us today,” he tried. His voice was weak, it always was, it always wavered and broke in all the inappropriate moments. He had never been that good at speaking.  

“It was good. There was a fight in the main square, though, so I didn’t get to eat a lot of it,” he muttered, and trailed off, the feeling as awkward as the first day. 

The nurse that used to visit and help had told him that company would have helped the comatose man, and he should try to talk to him, and yes, Hyunwoo had never been that good with words, not the way most of his friends were, not the way Wonho or Minhyuk or even Jooheon were, but he tried. 

He tried, but his grandfather never quite woke, or gave any sign of getting better, and the nurse had been taken away two months ago.  

He squeezed the frail hand in his own, then set on changing dirty clothes for new ones, making a mental note to maybe bring a washcloth next time.

Words never helped much, but Hyunwoo could at least take care of basic needs. Washing and changing clothes and making sure the nurses at the temporary home hadn’t forgot to put more of the sacks of liquid that they said contained nutrients to keep his grandfather alive. 

He didn’t stay that particular day, even though he could easily have, like he usually did. He was tired, he told himself, and definitely worried for Minhyuk and Hyungwon and all the other boys. Not that his presence would’ve actually made any difference in the old man’s health. Maybe in Hyunwoo’s own peace of mind, yes, because he couldn’t bear to watch his only remaining family waste away in a barely-lit room, but at least he could lie to himself and feel a bit reassured that someone was taking care of him, that he was being useful in some way.

This particular day, he was just tired.   

He realized someone was waiting outside before he even reached the door. Whoever it was, they were either not hiding at all, or doing a very poor job of it. 

He opened the door calmly and stepped forward, catching the approaching figure before they could raise a hand against him, and pinning them against the wall in a single fluid movement. 

“Yo, man,” his would-be assaulter grinned. 

Hyunwoo let go. 

“You? What do you want?”

* * *

In a small town, near the border, there was a bridge, under which met seven boys.

This particular afternoon, the bridge was empty.

In this particular afternoon, two of the boys talked, sat around a table, in a room warm with smiles, and food, and the bond of a family.

One sat in his room, staring at the plush toy in his arms, and the small tear in the fabric under its cheek.

One cried, alone, clothes clinging to skin, still heavy with the water of the river roaring near him.

One stared into the ceiling, ignoring the dull ache in his arm and face, drawing invisible symbols with his gaze. Maybe tomorrow he would actually make a decision and take his own life in his hands, he told himself, and then went back to drawing symbols, only mocking the thought once. Maybe one day.

Two, talked, outside the would-be medical facility, where secrets were revealed and a single blue flower was offered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh yes, a fic I have had ready for almost two months now and was too cowardly to publish. I'm excited to have it finally out now! There will be some pretty heavy themes, among which death of loved ones, homophobia, abuse, suicide attempts, and referenced past rape, among others. I'll put proper warnings before every chapter, though!
> 
> If you enjoyed it or are mildly curious about future chapters, leave a kudos or a comment maybe? I thrive on validation for my terrible writing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly a break chapter, because yes, and because school isn't over yet. Save me.

In the village, under the bridge, stood two boys whose hair contrasted like snow to the night sky, in a silence inhabited by heavy breathing, and the trace of heated words still lingering in the air.

It hadn’t been a full day since Hyungwon had been all but dragged away and Minhyuk had ran from the group, swimming his worries and anger away in the river. He had always liked that river for all the wrong reasons.

Hyungwon wasn’t supposed to be back, though, not so soon. Whenever he disappeared, whenever he admitted that his father had gotten angry at him, and didn’t try to shrug it off as being too tired to hang out, because really, Minhyuk was stupid but not that much - all those times, he took his time in coming back to them, never returned after a single day.

Somehow, the fact that it was different this time around was not comforting.

“I thought you were under house arrest,” he finally sighed, sinking back against the wall. He had tried to confront Hyungwon, but really, why he even did it was a mystery to him, too. Maybe he _was_ that stupid.

He had always hated fighting with anyone, and with the raven-haired boy a bit more. Of course, they did nothing but fight these days, because life didn’t always go as Lee Minhyuk wanted it to go.  

Hyungwon shrugged, gaze intent on studying the gravel under his feet. “I got sent out to buy flowers for the kitchen vase.”

“Why are you not doing it?"

“There are flowers in the garage.” Hyungwon smiled, and maybe he was too tired to grin like he usually would, but it was still enough for the tension in the air to clear just a fraction, as Minhyuk huffed in disbelief and tried not to laugh. 

“You’re incredible,” he said, rolling his eyes at the way Hyungwon’s chest puffed in pride.  

“Yeah, I know,” the younger chuckled, and when silence fell again, the knot in Minhyuk’s chest was gone, as if they had never been angry in the first place, neither of them really making an effort to hold back their smiles.  

“Are you gonna come tomorrow?” he finally asked, smile dropping along with Hyungwon’s own when the younger frowned.

“House arrest,” he reminded the elder.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

This time, the silence that seemed to always accompany them, was empty.

“Can I cuddle you?”

And Minhyuk wanted to say yes. He really did. They all hugged, there was nothing weird about it, they dozed off in lazy days using each others’ bodies as pillows, they exchanged friendly punches and ruffled the younger ones’ hair. It wouldn’t have been weird.

Except this was Hyungwon, and it would have been weird. This was Hyungwon, and Hyungwon got ideas, wanted so much, and Minhyuk couldn’t afford to give him anything, or they’d both be hurt.

“I think you should go back home before your dad realizes and gets mad at you,” he finally said, and even though his eyes were trained on the gravel he could see the other boy nod, crestfallen.

It wasn’t supposed to make him feel guilty after months of this going on, but it did. because the world didn’t always go the way Lee Minhyuk wanted it to.

“I’ll go,” Hyungwon murmured, dropping his head in a quick greeting.

To the empty bridge, when the other had left and taken his warmth with him, Minhyuk whispered ‘Bye.’

* * *

In the outskirts of the village, there were three boys, playing in a street filled with chatter and sound of skipping footsteps.

“The sweets store opened up again, didn’t it?” Changkyun mused, throwing the marker into the second square of the sequence drawn in chalk.

“Yeah, but it’s not selling sweets anymore, did you even see it?” he heard Kihyun reprimand from behind. Changkyun grunted in affirmation, too busy trying not to lose his balance as he jumped towards home base.

On the third square back, he tripped and fell, much to Hoseok’s delight if the raucous laughter was anything to go by, and to Kihyun’s annoyance.

“You’re an idiot,” the brunet growled, picking up the flat stone and throwing it in a clear shot before quickly jumping the sequence himself.

“It’s some kind of weapon shop for the army, except they also have food we’re apparently not allowed to buy,” he said, turning around in the base in a single fluid movement, and making his way back without a hitch to collect the marker with all the dignity Changkyun had lacked.

“I wonder where the sweets went,” Hoseok mused as he caught the stone Kihyun threw him, and launched it into the third square.

“To the capital? Their children? Who the fuck cares.”

“They were good though,” Changkyun sighed, watching Hoseok hobble around and complete his round. The candy from that shop _had_ been good, as far as he could remember at least. He had been there twice at most, but it was good.

When it was his turn, he fell again, this time before even reaching home base.

“I hope you eventually break your legs,” he deadpanned when Kihyun came to retrieve the marker with a raised eyebrow.

“He’d reach home sooner than you anyway,” Hoseok chuckled, and Changkyun pretended he didn’t notice Kihyun grin briefly before he turned around to hop through the squares once again, throw the marker to Hoseok, and sit down for the game to continue.

* * *

Behind a field of blue flowers, there was a house, in which two boys lay down to rest their sore legs and talk truths and secrets.

“It’s a nice place,” Hyunwoo offered, wincing as he stretched his legs, admiring the too-small slippers that someone had lent him at the entrance. Sitting beside him on the couch of the empty living room, Jooheon snorted with a half-smile, bouncing an apple absentmindedly.

“Yeah, we like our houses inhabitable. We tried an abandoned warehouse, was a bit stuffy. Pretty cool though. Had some nice hide-and-seek spots,” he grinned, biting into the apple and propping his legs on the table in front of them.

“Hungry?” he offered, extending the fruit. Hyunwoo shook his head.

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” he said instead, nodding towards the open door to their right, where a child sat cross-legged on the floor, playing with a puppet.

“Yeah, you didn’t. I wouldn’t have told you even if you had asked. There’s a cot somewhere upstairs you can use tonight, Donghyun can show you later. You have until tomorrow to consider, yeah?”

“I already said I’m in,” Hyunwoo frowned.

“Well, you still have until tomorrow to reconsider. We ain’t moving before then, anyway. And if it goes like I said, the others can join us tomorrow. I already mentioned some things to Hyungwon, anyway.”

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” the elder sighed, without really trying to convince the other of anything. Jooheon listened only at sporadic times which could not be calculated or understood, but he was pretty sure this wouldn’t be one of those, no matter how strongly they both wanted to protect their friends.  

“Sure, boss,” Jooheon shrugged, as expected, “I’ll give it a chance. Maybe if all goes well in our first mission together, I guess.

“We should prepare the greenhouse, though,” he mumbled over another bite of his apple, pulling his legs down from the table, “Just in case.”

* * *

In the village, seven boys rested, waiting the morrow.

When the sun rose, it greeted one still hiding under his covers; one washing the sleep off his eyes in the river; two bidding each other good morning to the familiar sound of clanging pots and sizzling pans; one walking the path to his old home, and, like every morning, never completing it; and two, cleaning the grime out of the barrel of too-often used weapons, and hoping that disaster would not befall them too soon.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to maybe leave a kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed reading! I feed on interaction. (Also, find me on Tumblr @procrastinatingdragonfly to chat about stuff!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace had never existed, yet somehow Wonho could feel it was beginning to break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...This is six months late. Yes. I won't comment on that. It's been actually mostly written for forever but I don't have a stable beta and am too cowardly to publish. Anyway, new chapter, some changes happen, half of it is Hoseok's POV, yay?
> 
> Warning worthy content: implied murder, and anxiety(?).

Anxiety was a familiar companion to Hyungwon. 

It couldn’t have been otherwise, really, not with the situation in the village and the country, not with the deaths, and the bombs, and the people who disappeared without discernible reason, the closed stores with rusty doors and dusty windows, and his friends, his reckless friends running wild in the streets without a care in the world and with all the weight of the war on their shoulders. Anxiety was a familiar companion, almost an ally to Hyungwon’s quest for daily survival, and it could have never been otherwise. 

As he lay under his covers, anxiety seeped into his bones, solidified into a weight on his chest, crushing his lungs and burning into his veins, and the moment his throat closed off, he  _ knew _ something was going to happen. 

When he heard footsteps outside of his door, and his mother’s voice calling for his father to do something, he rolled over to press his face into the mattress and the covers over his head, and resolved to go back to sleep. 

An hour later, with dull fingers still clawing at his insides, he surrendered to his fate and went downstairs, lips twitching in practice of a natural smile, and legs trembling beyond his control.

Far away, a young boy’s veins were poisoned of blue.

* * *

“Are you ready?”

The lights in the store flickered uncertainly. 

Was he?

Besides him, Jooheon shifted his weight, tongue darting out to wet his lips, the weapon in his hands still as death, barrel pointed towards the ground. 

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, through the blood pounding in his eardrums, Hyunwoo wondered how he had never noticed the other’s impeccable weapon handling over the years. Hyunwoo knew weapons. He should have. 

Hyunwoo should have done a lot of things. 

The finger that rested on the barrel of his own gun twitched, as if to remind him why he loathed guns and triggers so much. 

_ Guns kill, Hyunwoo,  _ his grandfather had told him years ago, when he had deemed him old enough to learn to how to provide for himself and what remained of his family. Hyunwoo doubted that he had really been ready, but the thundering of marching footsteps had made everything that much more terrifying, and everyone that little bit older. 

_ Of course, _ he had thought at the time,  _ they do _ . 

Inside the shop, a bell rang to announce the next hour, and the old shopkeeper lit a cigarette to wind down the stress, as if the time dictated his addiction. 

Shownu nodded. 

“Ready.” 

* * *

In the village, under the bridge, sat four boys, throwing pebbles at empty barrels of rusting aluminium. 

“They’re not back yet.” 

“Hyunwoo is not back yet,” Minhyuk corrected, throwing a stone in a single, fluid gesture. If it hit the barrels with too much force, no one commented. “Hyungwon will be gone for a week.”

“He won’t.”

The boys whipped around at the unknown voice behind them. Wonho’s mouth dropped open in protest, but before he could say a thing, the child spoke again, smiling at the quartet.

“You should leave soon,” she said, “He will take you to a safe place. It’s not good here. Your friend will come, too. He’s wounded.” Her face twisted into a frown, eyes focused on Minhyuk. “He’s sad.” 

And just like that, she blinked, and her frown was gone, a smile taking its place as suddenly as she had appeared. “He’ll come on his own. You don’t need to worry. Just follow when you’re told to.” 

“What the heck-”

“You should leave,” the child repeated, interrupting Kihyun, “At the forest clearing behind the convenience store. The one, ah, the one near the staircase. They’re waiting there.”

Kihyun’s mouth opened again, but Wonho cut him off. 

“Alright. You can go.” 

The child smiled. 

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon. Oh, and be careful. There are enemies nearby.” 

* * *

“I have no idea what the fuck you are even thinking, but just because a child we have never before seen in our lives told us to go check the old store, we shouldn’t automatically assume she’s not out for our heads,” Kihyun repeated for what must have been the seventh time in a ten-minute span. “They’ve never had qualms using children.” 

“Pray tell, what will they gain from luring us into a trap rather than just shooting the street rats in the public square?” Wonho shot back with matching annoyance, kicking a small pebble on his rapid march. 

“He has a point, you know,” Changkyun mumbled, trailing behind them. Following on his right, Minhyuk rolled his eyes. 

“You’re just bored,” he accused, and Changkyun, Wonho, and, to his surprise, Kihyun as well, snorted in unison. 

“Yeah,” their youngest admitted, letting the argument drop with a shrug. 

In the village there were four boys, marching with only incidental hurry up the never-ending stone steps that separated their hometown in two levels. One of them held a hand to his belt just a little too tense to pass for casual. 

Everything was quiet, or bustling with life - whichever it was, none of them could tell, and it wasn’t anything removed from the ordinary. People rarely ever raised their voices anymore; Wonho could barely remember the times when they did. Passing by a balcony, Yeonjung, an old classmate and pleasant acquaintance, waved at them with a pleasant smile, without actually greeting them out loud. 

She was engaged, last time he checked. Off to building a life while he played chase with a group of teenage boys. It wasn’t like he had ever thought his choices would have led to this, anyway, but they had. 

Approaching the stone stairs that led to the more elevated houses, he immediately noticed the shift in the air - and so did the others, if their bodies tensing was any clue. 

“I told you.” Kihyun sighed and walked forward, crouching instinctively even though there was little to take repair behind. 

The commotion from behind the walls didn’t worry them. It was soldiers, the boys were just passing by, and they would leave because they were  _ very, very sorry _ they’d interrupted official business, whatever that was. 

It only worried them when the gunshots rang out. 

In a matter of seconds, Minhyuk froze, Kihyun tensed, Changkyun blinked, and before any of them realized it, Wonho rushed forward, pulling his knife out of his belt with the fluidity of a man who had practiced the gesture too often not to have it fully automatised. 

“Idiot,” Kihyun huffed, running after him, Changkyun immediately on his trail. 

They didn’t find what they were looking for - no Jooheon, no Hyunwoo, no Hyungwon. Instead, four soldiers outside the old convenience shop, broken windows, and a slow trickle of blood from the floor. 

Before Wonho had a chance to react, and before any of the armed men took real alarm to their presence, hands wrapped around his face and arms, pulling him from behind. He tried to twist and kick them off, only to be thrown to the ground, the impact knocking the air out of his lungs. . 

“Shut the fuck up, really, please,” a familiar voice growled in exasperation, and Wonho stopped his knife’s motion just before it stabbed his assaulter’s thigh. 

“Jooheon?” he asked, dumbfounded. 

“No shit, you almost blew our cover there. Also, watch that thing,” the younger boy snarked, running his hands over his face in a weak attempt to rub his stress away. Behind him, the others were catching their breath against the wall, eyes flittering about and slowly losing their panic. 

“Hyunwoo?” Kihyun’s voice eventually broke the brief silence, and the elder man snapped out of whatever daze had his eyes clouded and his hands trembling around the gun they were gripping onto. 

There were drops of blood on his legs, clinging onto the fabric of his socks and the soles of his shoes. Wonho opted to keep his mouth shut and push away the dread that attacked him all at once.

He had seen worse. He had done worse. 

Hyunwoo had done much worse. Wonho had done so much worse. 

“Let’s just go,” Jooheon sighed, motioning for the others to follow him, muscles already tensing in anticipation of any potential danger while they made their getaway. “And you put away that knife before the sol’s see it, for real,” he added. 

Wonho took a glance at the knife he hadn’t even realized he was still holding, at his white knuckles and impossibly tight grip, just long enough to realize he had almost cut off the circulation in his hand. 

He forced his fingers to relax, knife pushed back into his belt. 

“Before next week, please,” Jooheon’s whisper called, and the elder rushed to reach them, running along the buildings towards the edge of town. 

“So will anyone explain why a ghost decided to tell us to come to a murder scene?” Kihyun asked when they were distant enough that the voices had faded away to a mere background nuisance. He looked at Hyunwoo, of course, as they always did, but it was Jooheon who sucked in a short breath and forced it out all at once. 

“I really wish she hadn’t. Sorry about that.”

Kihyun huffed, urging him to continue with his eyes. Wonho would’ve expected Jooheon to detach his gaze, or shy away, hide from an explanation. Instead, he shrugged. 

“Just follow me for now. You can say no later.” 

Surprisingly, they all did without complaining. 

It took Wonho all of six minutes to realize they were heading towards the greenhouse, the one he used to take care of as a child. He was fairly sure it had been abandoned by now, but he guessed that was kind of the point, there. 

In front of the white walls, stood Hyungwon, black hair messy and old clothes hung over his frame to make him look all that much smaller. Wonho almost blurted out his name, asked how he had managed to run away, demanded any explanation as to what was happening, but something in his countenance, the way he twisted his shirt between clammy hands and how his eyes refused to meet theirs, suggested that he should keep quiet. From the corner of his eye, he could see almost everyone have the same thought process. 

Before they could feel the atmosphere tense further, Jooheon pushed them inside the greenhouse, looking around one last time before he allowed the tension to seep out of his shoulders, posture slumping into the familiar childish arrogance he always seemed to wear.  

“Well, we’re all here, then. Good enough. I don’t know how to break this to you, so I’ll say it directly. I dragged all of you into a mess, and it was not an accident. I’ve been ordered to, and I’m not actually sorry.” He stopped, eyes switching between the six of his friends to check for reactions, or maybe just a dramatic pause. Knowing Jooheon, probably both, Wonho thought. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find it, as he dropped his head in a silent nod. 

“I’ll drag you a little further now. It’s gonna be the fun part. You can leave later. For the moment-” he grinned, a half-hearted grin that didn’t reach his eyes, and threw a wide gesture to his surroundings. 

“-Welcome to the X-Clan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I feel like I should clarify it now: the names have meanings. If you think you noticed a mistake there, it was probably intentional. 
> 
> Please do throw any critiques, compliments, theories, and the like at that pretty comment box to motivate the writer and also make their day (or leave a kudos! That's nice, too). If you feel like it, definitely do bug the writer on [Tumblr](https://procrastinatingdragonfly.tumblr.com/)!


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